


Don't Fear the Sleeper

by applejoy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Dark Disciple - Christie Golden, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Except Dooku, F/M, no betas we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25057975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applejoy/pseuds/applejoy
Summary: Asajj had given him the ultimate task: kill the Sleeper and finish his Darkside training. Only then would he, Quinlan Vos, be strong enough to defeat Dooku.But really, had he ever been the kind of Jedi to follow instructions?***An AU take on Dark Disciple in which Quinlan Vos is the epitome of the John Mulaney quote, “My wife’s a b*tch and I like her so much!”
Relationships: Asajj Ventress/Quinlan Vos
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	1. The Sleeper

**Chapter One – The Sleeper**

* * *

The dark waters of Dathomir pulled at his soul like fishhooks into meat.

A stinging, _tearing_ , pull at the very core of his being. It threatened to break him; to drag him down and rip him apart and put him back together.

The Sleeper was waiting for him in the depths.

He couldn’t sense it in the Force, not in the way that he was used to. It was an angry, gaping maw. A hole where something should have been.

 _Focus, Vos_.

It was his own thought, but he heard it in Asajj’s raspy voice.

 _Step one: Find the Sleeper_.

He swam deeper into the pit, searching out the empty space where something should have been. There, his senses screamed at him, there was where he would find what he was looking for.

_Step two: Kill the Sleeper._

Without a lightsabre, vibroblade, or even a stick, he had yet to come up with a plan on how exactly he might do that.

A thought began to grow in the back of his mind. It was a whisper that grew into a shout that grew into a scream.

_Embrace your power, slay the beast._

That was Asajj’s voice again, he thought but then knew better. She never spoke to him without the slight tinge of annoyance, a little speck of exasperation that never quite seemed to leave her voice. A special little irritation she reserved just for him.

What was speaking to him now was the Dark Side of the Force.

 _Step three: Embrace the Dark Side and kill Dooku_.

In every part of Dathomir, its air, its water, even in its wildlife, was the Dark Side. Quinlan choked on it like water rushing into his lungs.

The force of it pushed him down, sank him deeper into the water and deeper into a dark place in his own mind.

 _Step One: Find the Sleeper_.

Asajj had been so straightforward, as if finding an ancient beast for a Nightsister ritual was so easy that a youngling could do it. But then again, her plans were always bare-boned and relied on acting on the situation as it happened rather than the situation as they had planned for it.

Because how could they have known that when he searched for the Sleeper, the Sleeper would be searching for him?

It came out of nowhere.

Not nowhere, he rectifies in his own mind. It came out of the empty place, sprang its trap from the black hole that swallowed the light and the dark with equal ferocity.

 _Step two: Kill the Sleeper_.

Its eyes were ancient.

Asajj had called it the last of its kind.

He wondered when that happened; when did this creature go from part of something to the last of something?

He tried to push the thought down. Empathy and compassion were Jedi traits, incompatible with the Dark Side that desperately tried to take root in his mind.

 _When all the Jedi are dead, then you will know how I feel_.

The Sleeper floated in the void of black water. It said nothing, moved its great arms slowly in turn with the movements of the water around them.

It said nothing, but Quinlan heard it anyways. He’d always been good at that.

The Sleeper was mournful, sad, alone. _It would be a mercy to end its suffering_ , the Dark Side whispered in his mind. _Send it to join its fallen kind in the Force._ The power required to do it was so small, so insignificant. A little pressure and a few minutes and it would be over. Task completed, on to the next one.

He raised his arm.

Then he put it back down.

( _“No will of its own, the Force has.” He remembered Yoda saying to his youngling class. “Only balance it seeks.”_ )

The Sleeper watched; its eyes were unchanging in the dimness of the water.

( _“Controlling your emotions does not mean ignoring them,” Master Tholme said as he tapped a finger against Quinlan’s forehead. “It does not mean your anger and rage do not exist, rather it means you understand where they come from; it means you understand that you control your emotions, they don’t control you.”_ )

The Dark Side screams for blood.

Or rather, something screams for blood and Quinlan is no longer so certain anymore that it’s just the Dark Side talking to him.

( _He watches Asajj meditate and can’t help but ask who taught her to do that, to act like a Jedi when she so clearly wasn’t. “My old master, Ky Narec.” Then there’s a long, sad story. “I lost myself when he died. It’s taken a very long time to find myself again.”_ )

Desperate now, the Dark pushes further into his being, pulling at the threads that once held him together.

( _“Be careful of Ventress,” Mace Windu stops him outside of the Council chambers. It’s unlike the Jedi Master to speak in confidence like this. “The Council doesn’t want you to know this, but she had a direct hand in Master Tholme’s death and hundreds of other atrocities. She is not to be trusted.”_ )

Pain seeps through his body.

( _“Forgiveness in the Jedi way,” Master Qui-Gon says to him, then Obi-Wan. Quinlan watches the younger boy wipe the blood away from his nose. Obi-Wan apologises for starting the fight, forgives him for punching him. Quinlan just stares, wishing he could be half the Jedi Obi-Wan already was._ )

His thoughts are no longer his own. The Sleeper is sorting through his mind, flipping through it like the pages of a holonovel. It rips a few pages out every now and again, then keeps going. For the first time in a very long time, the voice in the back of Quinlan's mind goes silent.

He feels the Force around him and the planet, reaching out into the galaxy around him.

There is light.

There is dark.

And he is somewhere in the middle.

Asajj is there too, of course.

She’s been there for a very long time, he realises. Was she waiting for him? Did she know that when she found herself that she’d be finding him too?

He smiles to himself in the darkness. If he asked her those questions she would grimace, maybe fake a retching sound, then tell him to get a grip. Her lack of sentimentality is her best quality.

He thinks about her, and the galaxy, and the universe, and the Force, and somewhere in between it all he finds balance.

********

  
  


The person before her is not Quinlan Vos.

Oh, it has his body alright, it walks with his stupid swagger, and it smiles his idiotic smile, and it brushes past her with his nice ass.

But whoever came out of the pool is not the person who went in.

Asajj knew he would change, knew that the little spot of darkness in his otherwise bright self would take over and make him something different.

But this is too different.

His conflict and fear are not amplified in the Dark Side, nor are they concealed in the Light. She can still sense them in him, feel the same patterns of doubt that once threatened every single part of him that was a Jedi, but now it’s like they don’t matter.

It’s like he took his carefree veneer into the deepest parts of himself and remade what he found.

She doesn’t like it.

But then he shuffles onto the _Banshee_ and kisses her cheek and tell her that _there’s been a change of plans_ and she has to push her doubts aside.

For what it’s worth, it _is_ an okay plan.

Much better than the three steps she had in mind.

Much better than the fear that scratched in the back of her head, the fear that whispered what would happen when the Dark Side took him over.

“Do you really think Dooku will take the bait?”

Not-Quinlan’s presence in the Force is _eerie_ , to say the least. Like the still on a lake before whatever creature underneath its surfaces pulls you into the depths.

“Dooku is a Sith. He knows his pride is a weakness, but he also projects it onto everyone else.” This level of wisdom is not something her Quinlan would be capable of saying, let alone understanding. “If we’re going to win, we have to make him think we’re both lost in the Dark Side.”

Kenobi was less receptive to Not-Quinlan’s ideas.

“If the Republic meant to attack the Confederacy’s capital city, it would be _months_ in planning not days, Vos.”

They commed him through the _Banshee_. Not-Quinlan had shrugged off the loss of his commlink in a casual, playful way that almost made Asajj believe he was his old self again. Fast and loose with the rules, the truth, and his allegiance to the Jedi Order. But then he had launched into his plan of attack so succinctly that she knew that he wasn’t really the same person.

If Kenobi noticed anything unusual, he kept it to himself.

Instead, the Jedi general considered the plan warily, arms half-crossed, one hand worrying at his beard, the very picture of a man in conflict with what he was hearing. He promised what help he could before ending the feed.

Not-Quinlan proceeded as if Kenobi gave them enthusiastic approval from the Council. Asajj sorted out a new plan of attack in her own mind.

_Step one: Bait Dooku into a fight._

_Step two: Don’t get killed._

_Step three: Kill Dooku._

_********_

The easiest part of their plan was going to be baiting Dooku.

The man’s pride was so immense that it would only take a few simple goads to push him over the edge. Truly, the ultimate weakness of the Sith was their pride. Asajj knew that firsthand.

Skirting around the crowd, she tried to push away her unease.

Hours earlier, she allowed Not-Quinlan to fix the back of her dress as they prepared themselves for the fight onboard the _Banshee_. It was uncanny how much the old Quinlan could shine through this other person. She had felt a hand on her lower back and whipped around, ready to put him back in his place.

He immediately put both hands up in surrender. “Just in case!”

Asajj reached behind her, feeling the blaster he’d tucked into her waistband.

 _Oh._ “Just in case of what?”

He shrugged. “Call it a back-up plan.”

She raised a brow at him. “I thought Kenobi was the back-up plan.”

Not-Quinlan had the gall to look offended on the other Jedi’s behalf. “That’s not very nice to Kenobi. You know, he works very hard.”

She gave him a look that sent him laughing, like he was still the person she had met all of those months ago.

Ignoring him, she had checked her chrono and realised they were losing precious time.

“Let’s go.”

Dooku was easy to spot in the crowd.

He played the gentleman with the ease of a purebred noble, relished in the attention that the highest-ranking members of the Confederacy doled out to him. They lauded him for his charity, but Asajj remembered what she had done in the dark for him. Sometimes she dreamt she could still hear the screams of all the people she had killed on his behalf.

She took that darkness, that pure hate, and wrapped herself in it to the point where all she felt was the cold arms of the Force holding her up.

With a disguise like that, it was no wonder Dooku took her bait.

In his eyes, she was still a silly little girl. His failed apprentice whose rage outweighed her talent; a liability he could no longer suffer to live.

Their sabres clashed on the overlook.

He deflected her blows easily, a lothcat playing with a bit of string. Her rage was no match for his utter control, his domination of the Dark Side within him. He knew how this fight would end long before their sabres ever touched. He truly believed that what he was doing was only drawing out the inevitable.

Asajj saw his every thought.

She saw his confidence in his lazy parries, his disappointment in the flash of his eyes, and his growing pride in himself in the slant of his shoulders.

An open holonovel, so to speak.

She is not so easy to read.

She allows the Dark Side to cloud her mind, to hide her thoughts. Behind the walls she builds, she holds onto the memory of Ky Narec helping her build her first lightsbare, the feeling of her sisters around her, and the look of wonder Quinlan Vos gave her when she recalled the story of how she saved a little girl named Pluma Sodi.

It gives her a balance that Dooku could never know.

It grounds her in the Force while Dooku only sees the dark shadow she projects, angry and unbalanced.

They trade between offense and defense, move through forms known to the Jedi and then to those known to the Sith. It is as much a duel as it is a test of her knowledge.

Dooku presses the attack, putting her to the back-foot, then swipes and –

Quinlan Vos meets his blade.

Dooku is pleasantly surprised, impressed even, as he deflects their dual attack.

Asajj pushes down her uncertainty over what Dathomir did her to lover and fights with all she has left. When Dooku is dead, then they get to sort this out. Until then, there is nothing left to do but fight.

The moment of uncertainty is enough for Dooku to land a swipe across her arm, a burning graze on her skin before he sends her hurtling into the brick wall of the building behind them.

“I would have thought the Jedi council thought higher of me than to send a spymaster and a failed apprentice to kill me.”

Asajj forces herself up, spits out a mouthful of blood, then ignites her sabre. But Quinlan is already on the attack, bearing down on Dooku.

It’s a vicious flurry of strikes and parries, so quick that Asajj struggles to catch their movements, look for opening. She still feels the sting of Dooku’s blade on her skin and her head aches where it met the wall. Her grip on the Force wanes in response to her pain.

Dooku senses her weakness.

“Tell me Vos, does the Council know they allied you with the person who killed your master?”

Asajj winces, remembers how she told Quinlan his master’s death was at Dooku’s hand. She feels her self-hatred rise, wonders if Quinlan’s anger will cause him to falter. It’s a double-edge blade meant to wedge them apart, break their focus just enough so that Dooku can separate them and end this fight quickly.

But Quinlan doesn’t react.

This is not the Quinlan Vos that Dooku remembers running wild through the Temple nor is he the Jedi spymaster that dabbled a bit too heavily in the Dark Side.

This is a new man, undaunted by the past and balanced in the Force.

Rocking back on his heels, Quinlan pushes Dooku back, forcing the older man to retreat a few steps. It’s all the opening Asajj needs.

She loses herself in the clashing of sabres, the dancing movements of their blades and bodies working in tandem. They are stronger together, her and Quinlan, but Dooku is a Sith and treachery is his nature.

They are forced back by the sound of battle droids cocking their blasters.

Grievous has surrounded them, broken free of wherever Quinlan had trapped him.

They stand back to back, sabres at the ready though Dooku has already turned his off and clipped it away. They’ll last a few minutes before the droids wipe them out, Asajj is certain.

“A disappointing end, I’m afraid.” Dooku adjusts his cape and slicks his hair back down, as if he plans to return to the party once the would-be assassins are dead. Asajj regrets not landing at least one blow to his perfect image.

The calm certainty of Dooku’s face is broken by the sound of a hundred ships dropping out of hyperspace above him.

“That would be Kenobi,” Quinlan informs her as if this wasn’t his plan to begin with. The night’s sky above them has turned a hundred shades of red and yellow as fighters break off from the main fleet, engaging the Separatists’ defenses head-on.

Dooku’s eyes are murderous as he sends Grievous inside with his legion. “Get the leaders to safety while I finish these Jedi _myself_.”

It’s all the signal they need to begin their attack once more.

But unlike before, Asajj is tired.

Her arm screams in protest with every movement and her head pounds in time to their clashing blades. She cannot hold this for much longer. Despite his new resolve, she senses Quinlan’s strength waning beside her as well.

For all their newfound strength, Dooku’s skill is unmatched.

He pushes them back again, a few seconds to reset his grip on his sabre and goad them again.

“I expected better, my former apprentice.”

Asajj’s chest heaves as she glares in response. The Force moves around her, the Dark and the Light swirling just out of her reach.

In the midst of it all, she feels Quinlan.

For a moment, he is not the stranger who climbed out of the water on Dathomir nor is he the person she tried to build him into before that. The Dark is gone. The pain, the anger is gone. He is once again the careless fount of light beside her, the Jedi who thought he could fool her into thinking he was anything else.

He smiles at her, winks, and she feels his hand on her back.

“Sorry, love.”

He sends her flying backwards, away from Dooku.

It’s over before she hits the ground. She hears it happen, fills in the blanks in her mind’s eye.

The sound of sabres colliding, then hitting flesh.

(She feels Quinlan’s pain rip through her.)

Then, somewhere, a blaster goes off.

( _Get up_ , something inside her says.)

She lifts her head, picks herself off the ground, and ignites her sabre.

(She really should have asked him what his full plan was.)

Asajj drops her sabre just as soon as it ignites.

Quinlan and Dooku are locked together for a moment before Dooku’s sabre turns off, tearing out of Quinlan’s chest and dropping uselessly to the ground.

Dooku quickly follows his blade, the hole left in his chest by the blaster bolt smoking into the night. Asajj doesn’t need to be Force sensitive to know that he’s dead.

She runs to Quinlan, flipping him over into her lap.

“Hey, honey.” He has such a stupid smile. She tries to ignore the hole burnt through the middle of his chest, but he catches her gaze all the same. “It’s just a scratch.”

There’s blood in his mouth.

He’s such an idiot.

She kisses him and reaches into the Force.

********

Quinlan Vos feels like he’d been run over by a herd of banthas.

Twice.

It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate that Asajj Ventress (former Sith apprentice, love of his life, most beautiful woman in the galaxy, etc.) saved his life.

He just wishes she had spent a little more time learning the finer points of the art of Force healing.

Every time the transport jolts he feels Dooku’s blade in his chest.

Asajj shifts beside him. He can feel the unease pouring off of her, a cloud of nerves that gets thicker the closer they get to the Jedi temple. The prospect of being called before the Council has that effect on people.

It probably doesn’t help that Kenobi is watching them closely, as are the clones.

Well, not Commander Cody because Quinlan is about certain as he is that his chest hurts that the marshal commander is sleeping on his feet.

From Kenobi, he feels suspicion, sorrow, and forgiveness. It’s a pretty normal mix from Obi-Wan.

From the clones, though, he can feel their anger, and pain, and hate. It’s not directed at him.

Asajj is burning under their gazes so he does what he can; smile, hold her hand, and pretend that absolutely nothing is wrong.

It works (somewhat) until they’re called separately into the Council Chambers. Kenobi looks almost apologetic as he says it, asks Asajj to follow him, then leaves Quinlan alone with his thoughts for the first time in weeks.

He doesn’t like the feeling.

The moment he stepped onto the Temple grounds, he knew in his heart that he was not a Jedi anymore. And after Dathomir, he knew he could never be that much of a Sith either.

He was something in between now.

But the council wouldn’t understand that, not really, not now as they waded through the political nightmare that came from having a key Separatist leader assassinated.

Instead when he was called before the Council, he gave them part of the truth. Just enough to vindicate Asajj and cast doubt into his own state of mind, but not enough for them to know what he had found in the waters of Dathomir.

“The Jedi Council cannot be implicated in this affair.” Master Windu gives voice to what every other person in the room was thinking.

Silence falls as the masters contemplate his fate.

Quinlan appreciates their attempts at benevolence on his behalf.

He saw through them then for the lost children that they were, but he respects their effort, nonetheless.

“Expel me from the Jedi Order.”

It is half suggestion, half command.

Half the noble sacrifice of a Jedi and half the raging pride of a Sith.

Kenobi speaks first.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

He did know, and better than anyone else in the room.

“The Council needs someone to blame, needs to look like they took action to prevent this. I’m offering this to you: blame a rogue Jedi for Dooku’s death, expel me from the Order in retribution, and wash your hands of this mess.”

It takes a normal amount of grumbling before the Council agrees.

“Accept your sacrifice, the Council does.” Yoda nods his little head as he speaks, eyes closed as if deep in thought. “Wish you luck, I do.”

The old Quinlan would have joked with Master Yoda, told him that there was no such thing as luck. But instead, he bows to his former masters and drops his lightsabre into waiting hands and leaves the only home he’s ever known.

Asajj is waiting for him.

And, really, that’s enough.


	2. Waking Dreams

Chapter Two – Waking Dreams

* * *

It’s two weeks after his expulsion from the Order that he makes good on his promise to Asajj.

They’ve tracked a few bounties in that time, reluctantly making their way back to Coruscant for the latest catch when the _Banshee_ ’s motivator dies.

Asajj tries to fix it, to get them flying and away from the planet that has only wronged them in the past. It’s a useless endeavour.

He watches as she crawls out of the service grate, cursing the whole way.

“ _Kriffing_! Stupid! Worthless! Piece! Of! Junk!”

Each word is punctuated by a kick to the offending machine.

If they didn’t need to replace it before, they definitely need to replace it now.

But rather than thinking about that, Quinlan is focused on Asajj.

She had pushed her goggles, turning her short hair into a white fountain on top of her head. The parts of her face that weren’t covered in dirt were red with anger. And at some point, she must have wiped away sweat from her forehead, judging by the smear of black grease across her face.

Quinlan knows he’s never seen anyone as beautiful as her in that moment.

“We’re stuck here until that piece of junk gets replaced,” she says.

“Marry me,” he replies.

Asajj carries on like she never heard him.

“I’ve half a mind to charge Kenobi for it since he sent us halfway across the galaxy and back again. He had some underqualified clone fly it to the Temple from Raxus.” She kicks the offending machinery a few more times for good measure.

“Marry me,” he says again.

Asajj stops abusing her ship to glare at him. She doesn’t deign to respond.

This is their dance for the rest of the day, him asking, her ignoring, until she finally breaks.

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

“That’s not a very good reason.

“I know.”

“Then why?”

“Because I love you.”

She accepts with an exasperated sigh on his twentieth time asking.

He pulls her along, giddy with excitement, to the nearest government station three levels up in response.

Their holodocs are real, freshly minted at the Council’s request, showing nothing a but a clean slate for both of them to start their new lives with. Sometimes Quinlan wonders if the Council realised the two of them were going to stay together.

The man behind the plastiglass doesn’t even look at them. The holonews is blaring from a mini emitter beside him; he focuses on the news as he reads a little standard vow for them to repeat, doesn’t look at them as he stamps their docs, sends them through the scanner, and hands them back.

It would be hard for most people to feel really, truly, honestly married when the officiant paid more attention to the breaking news of Cato Nemoidia’s highest ranking general defecting to the Republic following Dooku’s assassination.

Quinlan isn’t most people.

Asajj is his wife.

He has the holodocs that say so.

(And he also has the memory of the first time Asajj calls him _her husband_ to one of her contacts and it’s something so special he could die then and there.)

**********

Asajj Ventress is now Asajj Vos.

That hadn’t happened on purpose.

Well, getting married had happened on purpose.

The name change was sprung on her by a government official who had been too lazy to verify the picture of her on the holodocs matched her face, let alone ask her if she actually _wanted_ to have her name changed.

It would cost time and money to have it changed back.

So, for now (or from now on) her name is Asajj Vos, nice to meet you.

She tries not to think too hard on it.

Instead, she thinks about how the Force-damned motivator still needs replacing.

She drags Quinlan out of bed early one morning, drowns him in caf and steers him toward the closest garage she trusts.

“Just make sure we aren’t getting ripped off,” she tells him. But from the moment they enter, she knows that everything in it is far beyond their price range.

“I had to up my prices. New stock, better customers, and more profit for me.” Deagan, the sleazy Devaronian proprietor of the garage explains to her. Asajj can’t decide if she’s more upset at the waste of time or their continued inability to leave this Force-forsaken planet.

Quinlan has to stop her from using the Force to get a better deal. The Jedi keep track of that sort of thing, he reminds her, and Kenobi had gone to all that trouble to scrub their records clean. Instead, she waits as Quinlan smiles his way into conversations in lowlife bar, and gets information about one Rafa Martez, whose hanger on 1313 is the cheapest place to get parts.

And by _garage_ , the person had clearly meant _chop shop_.

It doesn’t take a genius to realise the fur-coated woman before them is selling stolen parts.

What does surprise her though is Skywalker’s ex-padawan poking her horned head out from behind a swoop bike. Ahsoka Tano’s inclination to work with criminals is both baffling and entertaining.

She gives her a not-unfriendly “Ventress” in greeting, then is visibly confused by Quinlan who gives her a smile and a little wave.

“You’re friends with bounty hunters?” A new, third person asks.

She’s a smaller version of Rafa, wide-eyed at the appearance of two strangers.

“Hardly,” Asajj scoffs in response. She still hasn’t forgiven the Torgruta for getting her hopes up over a pardon that never happened. “We heard we could get a motivator for a _Lancer_ -class ship here.”

Mini-Rafa carries on like Asajj hadn’t said anything, throwing rapid-fire questions to Tano about her acquaintances.

“Were you a bounty hunter? Is that where you learned how to fight? And program binary load lifters?”

“I’ll tell you later Trace,” Tano shushes her. Then to Asajj she says, “We have a couple that might work.”

Rafa, forgotten for a moment, clears her throat and adjusts the ridiculous fur coat she’s wearing. Asajj nearly rolls her eyes at the posturing.

“Are you forgetting that _I_ am the owner here? I’ll be the one to decide if we have the right parts for Ventress and her,” she eyes Quinlan warily before deciding on “business partner.”

Asajj cringes inwardly and outwardly when Quinlan slings an arm around her shoulders, “Actually I’m her husband.”

“Whatever.”

Rafa leads them through the garage, past the bike Tano was working on and towards a scrap-heap of parts.

“Here, an XC-11 class motivator. Almost new too.” She motions for them to have a closer look. “I’ll even throw in a friends and family discount: 500 credits.”

Asajj’s first reaction is to reach for the lightsabre that she left on the ship. Quinlan catches her arm and winks; she lets him take over negotiations.

He feigns looking over the part, scratching at a bit of carbon scoring and probing wires. He finishes his examination, gives Rafa an award-winning smile, and says, “It’s a bit steep for stolen parts.”

Rafa splutters. “They’re not _stolen_ , they’re salvaged.”

“I’m sure the Guard will understand. In our line of work, it’s important to stay on the _right_ side of the local boys, you know?” Rafa spouts more indignities, Quinlan just shrugs. “Or maybe we could cut a better deal and all leave here with what we want.”

It only takes them turning to leave for Rafa take the offer.

Asajj leaves Quinlan to sort out the credits, half-suspecting that he’s coaxing a less than fair price out of the woman. She scoffs at his easy use of the Force. Hypocrite.

Tano corners her.

“You and Master Vos?” Her tone is neutral, though her presence in the Force betrays a slight confusion.

“It’s a long story.” She replies, then adds, “He’s a not a Jedi anymore.”

Clearly no one has been keeping the stray padawan up to date on Temple gossip.

Asajj wonders if her masters even knew where she was.

She pushes that stray little bit of empathy away when Quinlan returns with the motivator.

“All finished, dollface.”

Asajj grimaces at him, ignoring Tano’s surprised laughter.

There’s something in her that wants to invite Tano along with them, to ease the confusion emanating from her in the Force, and help her one-time enemy and friend find balance. It’s gone before she manages the courage to speak.

“Ahsoka, come on!” The little one, Trace, calls to her from the ramp of the ship.

Rafa is less kind as she shouts, “Hello, we have a job waiting!”

Tano debates for a moment before nodding a goodbye and runs to join her new friends.

“See you around, Tano.” Asajj says it quietly, unsure if the Torgruta hears her. Then to Quinlan, “Let’s get back to the ship and off this planet.”

*********

“Have you ever been to Naboo? I hear it’s nice there. Maybe we could stop there sometime, have a little honeymoon. I heard Skywalker say the lake district there is nice during their summers. Or was it the spring? ‘Sajj?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you awake?”

“Take a guess.”

Getting back to the ship had been the easier task of the day.

Installing the new motivator and testing the ship’s systems had taken longer than expected, then they’d gotten _distracted_ and suddenly it was already the night cycle, and really, one more night on Coruscant wouldn’t kill them, would it?

Or, at least, that was just Quinlan’s way of not having to leave their little cabin on the _Banshee_ for a few more hours.

He had been rambling on for a while now, trying to talk Asajj to sleep. She liked when he did that, said his incoherently babbling made good background noise, and he was happy to oblige her.

“Or maybe we could go to Alderaan. I think they have an art museum or something that Kenobi liked, I’m not sure though because I don’t listen to him when he talks about art…”

At some point after that, he supposes, he must have fallen asleep.

Because right now he’s dreaming.

How does he know he’s dreaming?

Because he fell asleep on Coruscant and now he’s on Tatooine, because he’s sitting in a cantina and his chest doesn’t hurt when he breathes and he feels he’s ten years younger, and because the scene before him has happened already.

He feels the heat of the planet.

He tastes the dusty, dry atmosphere on his tongue.

He hears the wind start to shake the tent above him, drowning out the people around him.

And finally, he watches Anakin Skywalker scamper past him and meet Qui-Gon Jinn.

He should know the scene by heart, but this time is different. This time Master Qui-Gon straightens, turns towards him, and gives him the same exasperated smile Quinlan remembers from his padawan days.

“Hello there.”

His heart thunders in his chest.

The heat, the wind, the people are all gone.

It’s just him and Master Qui-Gon sitting in a cantina on Tatooine.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” he finally says.

“I never said I wasn’t,” the ghost replies.

“Shouldn’t you be haunting Kenobi? Or Skywalker?”

Master Qui-Gon laughs. “Who said I wasn’t?”

Quinlan considers the ghost for a moment. It looked identical to the deceased master, right down to the stains on its desert clothes. He supposes he must have conjured it up from his memories. Or maybe the Force is trying to tell him something. He eyes it warily.

“What do you want?”

He looks at Quinlan, the pressed-lip gaze of a Jedi Master whose student is on the verge of figuring out the answer to their question themselves.

“To stop the Sith?”

Master Qui-Gon betrays nothing.

“To warn us about the Sith?”

No change again.

He thinks about how the dream started, with young Anakin Skywalker scampering out of sight. Was he not the Chosen One? Wasn’t that the reason Master Quin-Gon brought him to the Order in the first place?

“To save the Jedi Order?”

Master Qui-Gon frowns. Quinlan sighs; he’s getting further away now.

Tatooine. The Chosen One. The Jedi. The Sith. What did the twin-sunned planet have to do with any of that?

Then, finally, he realises it.

“Balance.”

Master Qui-Gon smiles.

Then, the ground drops out from under him.

He’s in the dark again.

(Again?)

He realises it’s not darkness, but water.

He’s on Dathomir.

But this time he’s watching himself.

Quinlan barely recognises the man floating in front of him.

He’s wrapped in the Dark Side, hate pulsing as he approaches the Sleeper.

But this time when he reaches out his arm, the Sleeper wrenches and writhes then stops altogether.

Quinlan is helpless.

Quinlan is a spectator.

Quinlan can only watch in horror as he fails, as he falls, as he commits a hundred sins, as he breaks Asajj’s heart, as he-

He screws his eyes shut, not wanting to see anymore.

He knows what’s going to happen before it happens, but that doesn’t mean his heart doesn’t wrench in two as he watches Asajj die for the broken man this version of himself had become.

Briefly, he wonders what he’s done to deserve this special form of torture. He wonders what the point of showing this to him is, but then he sees it.

He sees the end.

The betrayal.

The Temple in flames.

A thousand voices crying out in terror.

Then, silence.

It’s so loud that he gasps awake, blood in his mouth.

************

Asajj feels herself die.

Then, she is trying to force air back into her lungs.

Her body is drenched in sweat as if she had been pulled out of the waters of Dathomir and dropped back onto her ship.

Beside her, Quinlan is shaking and spitting blood onto the floor.

The Dark Side is swirling around them.

No, not them.

It is surrounding the planet.

She can feel the tendrils of the Dark Side and something else, something so malevolent it sends her retching, sinking into every level of the planet like a dark fog settling into the night.

They have no choice but to go to the Temple.

But with every step closer, that dark fog threatens to choke her.

The only thing that keeps her moving is Quinlan beside her, leading her forward.

His presence in the Force is the same as it has been since Dathomir: calm, optimistic, carefree.

It’s enough to settle some, but not all, of her nerves.

She takes that strength with her as they enter the Council Chambers for the second time in far too few weeks.

The masters themselves look tired, a mix of staticky holograms and those who were pulled from their sleep by the arrival of a former assassin and a renegade Jedi at the Temple doors. Kenobi is the only one missing, having been ready to ship out to the Outer Rim to put out the last fires of Separatist resistance in the Outer Rim before her and Quinlan's arrival called him back.

The room feels overly hostile without him.

The Jedi masters can feel it too, Asajj realises, the dark fog that envelops the planet and threatens to swallow them whole. She sees in written across their faces, in the tense folding of hands and in the creasing of brows and the overwhelming _worry_ that fills the room.

Quinlan speaks first.

“I saw the Temple burning.”

Their reactions are a mix of quiet disbelief and dismay. They look to Quinlan, then their gazes fall to her, as if there is a possibility that this is somehow her doing.

There had been an expectation on the part of the Council that they would again speak separately. That they could fold into their established patterns of debate and decision, taking Quinlan along with them.

Instead, he had held her hand firmly and looked Mace Windu in the eye and told him that he wasn’t leaving his wife.

His attachment is a weakness in their eyes, she knows.

“Is there not a possibility that this is just a manifestation of your fear, Vos?” Another Jedi, General Mundi she recalls from her days on the opposite side of the war, questions with an air of bored certainty.

Asajj wants to know what fear he senses, what doubt.

Because Quinlan is stalwart beside her, unflinching under the gazes of the masters who once controlled his life.

If anyone is scared, it’s her.

She had felt herself die in her dreams, and that wouldn’t normally be enough to faze her, but then she’d what came after.

She had seen Quinlan return to the rank and file of the Jedi Order.

( _Execute Order 66._ )

She had seen a hundred lost battles.

( _Master Skywalker, there are too many of them! What are we going to do?_ )

And she had seen her master’s master lead the galaxy into a pit so dark that it seemed to snuff out every light in the universe.

( _So, this is how liberty dies…with thunderous applause_.)

But she doesn’t say this to the Council.

Instead, she crosses her arms, steels her nerves, looks Yoda directly in his little green face, and says:

“Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith lord you’ve been looking for.”

Asajj was never the one to mince words.

It’s obvious to her now in ways that she had never realised before.

It’s why Dooku won battles so effortlessly, why he seemed to always be one step ahead of the Jedi and their armies.

It’s why he knew the Republic so intricately, anticipating the sway of votes before they happened and converting allies to their cause with ease.

There had always been a man on the inside.

No, not a man.

A Sith Lord.

And she realised immediately why Dooku’s death was a turning point in the war, but not the end of it.

Grievous could win battles, certainly, but he didn’t have the tact of a politician and was bleeding his allies dry. Every day the holonews reported on another star system turning tail and allying themselves with the Republic.

And yet, through it all, the dwindling Separatist forces continued to beat back the Republic, their victories allowing Chancellor Palpatine to retain an iron grip on the Senate and on his emergency powers.

It’s revelation enough to stun the Council into silence until Kenobi rushes into the chamber, Skywalker at his heels.

Windu nods at Kenobi, glares in the general direction of Skywalker, and then addresses Asajj directly.

“We would have sensed if any member of the Senate was even remotely allied with the Sith.”

“Like you sensed with Dooku?” Asajj knows it’s a low blow but continues anyway. “Was that before or after he sat on your Council for years? How long has your pride blinded you to what was happening to the Republic?”

She feels Skywalker tense in the Force, a warning for her to stop, to quit before she angers the Council further, but that’s not what makes her fingers itch for her lightsabre.

The Force moves darkly around him.

“A plot to destroy the Jedi, I sense.” The Grand Master of the Jedi nods solemnly. Yoda is ignoring her impertinence. “Fear the Chancellor’s involvement, I do.”

Skywalker turns to blinding, hot rage behind her.

“The Chancellor has been a friend to the Jedi and a leader to-”

“You are not on this Council, Anakin.” Kenobi cuts him off, tempering Skywalker’s rage before it can explode. “What evidence do we have thus far of the Chancellor’s involvement?”

Quinlan summarises what they know and what they’ve seen in their visions.

But what they have is not near enough for the Council to condemn the Chancellor behind closed doors, let alone in the Senate.

It grates at Asajj’s nerves that their premonitions are so easily dismissed. The Jedi have no faith in those outside of their Order; even their continued debate is inconsequential to the revelations that she and Quinlan have laid at their feet.

Kenobi is at least partially on their side.

“The only person alive who may know for certain of Sidious’ identity is perhaps Maul, and even then, his testimony would be thrown out by the Senate.”

“Still,” the Torgruta master, Shaak-Ti, responds. “The… _incident_ with ARC trooper Fives brings questions to one’s mind about the Chancellor’s motives.”

Asajj recalls, vaguely, hearing about the incident. Whatever happened, she knows, is tied to the future she fears will come to pass if the Council continues to dismiss them.

“The involvement of Lord Tyrannus in the creation of the Clone Army also casts suspicion into exactly what the outcome of the war was meant to be.”

Now that is a surprise to her.

“You’re aware that Dooku had a direct hand in creating your army yet you trust them to guard your backs?”

She can’t help but interrupt at the absurdity of it.

She knows she has hit a nerve.

And it’s not the Council that betrays it, but Skywalker.

He stalks at the edges of the room, a rancor pacing its cage.

She recognises the anger rising in him for what it is, now. The rising hate mixed with fear.

Her sabre ignites on instinct.

“How long have you been hiding in the Dark?”

The Council Chambers are thrown into disarray as Skywalker’s blade clashes into hers.

“Is that why you betrayed Tano? Abandoned her?”

His anger rises in time with the movements of their blades.

 _Good_ , she thinks. _Expose yourself to them_.

There’s a chorus of sabres igniting around them, but the masters hold back.

“Did he promise you power? Vengeance?”

Skywalker snarls in response as Kenobi yells for them _stop_ , to _have some sense!_

She parries another harsh stroke, throws her blade, and rolls away just in time for Quinlan to disarm him and send him to his knees. It’s muscle memory for the bounty-hunting pair who have been training to face a Sith lord for weeks.

Blinded by rage, Skywalker could never anticipate the move.

He could also never anticipate Kenobi, who stands with his own blade at the ready, who has now realised just what his friend has done.

Skywalker’s eyes are rimmed with red, pulsing with yellowed rage into the dim lights of the Council Chamber.

“Master,” he pleads now to Kenobi. “Master, I’m sorry.”

*********

Him and Asajj are quickly escorted out of the Council Chambers by the Temple Guard. Quinlan hands off Asajj’s lightsabre to Kenobi, almost apologetically, as they are led out.

“I want that back,” she hisses at Kenobi. But Kenobi is too focused on Skywalker to answer her.

The guards don’t take them to prison cells or even cuff them, but Quinlan knows that they are not free to leave. Instead, they are deposited into a small room he recognises as his old chambers. The door hisses closed behind them and he knows it’s locked, and that guards have been stationed outside.

Resigned to wait, he flops down onto the thin mattress and folds his arms under his head to look up at Asajj.

“That was pretty risky, pulling a sabre in a room full of Jedi masters.”

She narrows her eyes, focusing on the spot on his chest where Dooku’s blade had tickled his lungs.

He concedes the point.

Instead of arguing, he reaches out an arm to her.

“Join me.”

Asajj makes a show of rolling her eyes before she curls up beside him.

They lay there in silence for a brief moment, relishing in each other’s closeness and still-beating hearts.

“Did you ever think it would be Skywalker that turned to the Dark Side?”

Quinlan pauses for a moment to think, to remember the little blond boy that he once knew from Tatooine. Anakin Skywalker was not a hero then, just some Force-sensitive slave from the market that the Jedi hadn’t had the fortune to discover earlier. Then, he had become the Chosen One – soon the top of his classes and singled-out early on by Obi-Wan to be his padawan.

He tries to pinpoint the time when that kid had turned into the conflicted man he was now. But Quinlan was gone too often from the Temple to really know what had happened to cause that change. He had thought that Skywalker was just another Jedi made hard and apathetic from Temple life.

Asajj talks over his silence.

“I bet it was a woman,” she lifts her head from his chest to look at him fully. “You Jedi are so easily swayed by pretty women.”

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” He says it as a joke.

“Don’t worry,” she pats his arm reassuringly. “It was before we met.”

“Wait, what-?”

She laughs, interrupting his now racing thoughts. “See what I mean? You’ll fall for anything.”

He kisses her cheek messily, the exact way she says hates, but he knows she doesn’t.

“I’ll only fall for you, honey. Only for you.”

They stay like that for a while, until he’s nearly asleep.

Asajj fidgets, then reaches around, and he hears the soft clattering of her placing a blaster onto the floor beside them.

“Sorry,” she says in a voice that’s already half-asleep. “’was digging into my back.”

He laughs softly. “Just in case, right?”

But she doesn't respond.

He joins her a few minutes later.

**********

Later, Quinlan realises the nap in his old room is the most rest he’s gotten in a week.

It’s interrupted, of course, by the Temple Guards opening the door for Kenobi.

Kenobi at least has the decency to be embarrassed by the blaster Asajj, still half-asleep, is pointing at him.

“Sorry to wake you,” Kenobi watches her put it away. “How many weapons were you able to bring into the Council Chambers, exactly?”

Asajj doesn’t deign to respond.

Quinlan can’t wait for them to banter out the conversation like they normally would; he gets directly to the point.

“What did the Council decide?”

Quinlan watches as the weight of the galaxy settles onto Kenobi’s shoulders.

“Anakin was in possession of…key information that links Palpatine to the Separatists under the guise of Darth Sidious.”

Quinlan knows that it’s as much of a condemnation of his friend that Kenobi’s conscience will allow.

Asajj, now fully awake and standing, eyes Kenobi warily.

“If you have your proof, then why are we still here?”

Kenobi won’t meet her eyes.

“The Council is requesting that when we confront Sidious that we have another Jedi who has defeated a Sith Lord before, who understands the delicate balance of Light and Dark in order to-”

“No.” Asajj crosses her arms, radiating defiance into the Force. “He’s not going.”

Kenobi is about to respond when Quinlan stands in-between them, trying to stop their fight before it happens.

“I think we need to talk about this in pri-”

He gasps the last word out, reeling backwards from the punch Asajj has landed on his chest. He sees stars and the blood rushing in his ears nearly drowns out the conversation her and Kenobi continue without him.

“See? He’s barely healed from Dooku.”

“We don’t need him to _fight_ , we need him to keep Anakin _on task_.”

“What the hell does that mean?” He watches her hand move to where her blaster is holstered. “I’ll keep Skywalker _on task_ if that’s what you need.”

“It’s not that the Council doesn’t trust you, Ventress.” Quinlan straightens just in time to see the apology on Kenobi’s face. “It’s just that the Council doesn’t trust your past.”

************

The Jedi might not trust her enough to fight Sidious, but they give her and Quinlan a few hours with Skywalker to teach a crash-course in finding balance between the Dark and the Light.

Quinlan has Skywalker kneeling on the floor with him, trying to balance the swirling emotions within the would-be Sith apprentice through meditation.

Asajj uses it as an opportunity to also settle her grudge with the Chosen One.

She plants a boot in his back and sends him toppling over onto the floor.

Skywalker springs up from the ground, anger blazing into the Force, but Asajj already has her unlit sabre pressed against his chest. If she turned it on, it would all be over.

“You’re dead, Jedi.”

She can feel him seething into the Force.

At this rate, he won’t survive walking through the door.

Quinlan is more understanding; he clasps a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

“Your rage makes you easy to read, makes it easy to see every move before you act.”

But Skywalker is still hopeless.

There’s conflict in him, between his Jedi morals and his own wants.

So, when Kenobi interrupts them to tell Quinlan and Skywalker that it’s time to go, Asajj corners him.

“If as much as a hair on my husband’s head is damaged, Skywalker, I will hunt you to edges of the galaxy.”

Quinlan hears her say it and laughs to himself.

She glares him into silence.

Skywalker’s face changes then, from anger into understanding. As if he knows what it’s like to send the person you love into the jaws of death.

There’s now little doubt in her mind that Skywalker fell because of a woman.

Later, after Kenobi has handed Quinlan his old sabre and warned them that they had five minutes alone to say goodbye, Quinlan pulls her into an embrace.

She uses it as an opportunity to slip her blaster into his waistband.

“Just in case.”

“Why Mrs. Vos, someone might think you cared.”

She kisses him again and then he’s gone.

Asajj has never been in this situation before.

Sidelined before a fight.

It’s almost embarrassing.

She’s led back to the room they had been in before where she waits anxiously, pacing the room.

She’s interrupted by a knock on the door; it slides open to reveal the Grand Master of the Jedi Order.

“Walk with me, you should.”

Asajj is wary of going any further into the Jedi Temple, but it’s a better distraction than pacing a hole into the floor. She follows Yoda’s slow, ambling pace through the great corridors of the Temple.

It’s only halfway through the day cycle, when Coruscant’s simulated light is at its brightness, but you would never know that in these hallways. She can’t help her growing sense of wonder as she looks to the great heights of the ceilings and the statues that line their path.

Yoda leads them into a little room.

“Greetings, younglings.” The little creatures jump out of their seats to welcome them. “Brought you a visitor, I have.”

Asajj debates fleeing.

Their excitement beats into the living Force, radiating an innocent brightness all around them. One of them, a little boy that Quinlan would no doubt call a _cute little kid_ , is bouncing with excitement.

“Master Yoda, are we going to practice with our lightsabres today?”

There is a moment where Asajj wonders why the boy is so familiar to her and then she remembers.

She knows him because she watched him die, saw the terror and betrayal in the little child’s face as the man who was meant to save them all cut them down.

It’s enough to make her dizzy.

But then the loud, _living_ , creatures are excitedly tugging at her hands and begging her to watch their sabre drills.

Whatever horrible things she saw, Asajj now knows, will not come to pass.

Even if Quinlan fails and the Republic falls and darkness fills the galaxy, the time for apathy is over. She is there, in that moment and in all the ones to come, and she is enough.


	3. The End of All Things

Chapter 3 – The End of All Things

* * *

It ends like it began.

It ends with Kenobi, and Skywalker, and a Sith Lord.

(And Quinlan Vos sitting in the background, watching but not really helping, unsure if he should step in until the moment is gone.)

It’s like poetry.

Or that’s what Quinlan tells Kenobi and Skywalker when it’s all over. But Palpatine had only been dead for about an hour at that point and the joke falls flat. Kenobi’s face is so unmoving it might as well have been carved from stone; Skywalker is still crying.

He shrugs it off, assuring himself that maybe Asajj will find it funny. She likes his ironic humour.

They return to the Jedi Temple in disarray. The Council has been in session for hours, ignoring summons from the Senate to answer for the death of the Supreme Chancellor, whose final moments are still being played over and over on the holonews.

He spares the Council his humour and instead succinctly recounts how the three of them confronted Palpatine, how Kenobi and Skywalker distracted the Sith Lord long enough for him to rewire the comms terminal in the Chancellor's office and broadcast Palpatine’s betrayal to the galaxy.

He tells them of Kenobi’s heroism and Skywalker’s conflict and adds in just a bit of his own daring bravery.

Yoda interrupts him before he can finish.

“But end in death, did this have to?”

Quinlan Vos, Jedi Master, would have answered _no_. He would think of a hundred other ways this could have ended, each with Palpatine surviving to face his crimes in a court of the Republic. He would admit fault for his part in the miscarriage of justice that was the death of the Supreme Chancellor. He would accept blame and expect Skywalker and Kenobi to do the same.

But Quinlan Vos is not a Jedi Master anymore and he’s just so _damned happy_ that the Sith that threatened him, and his wife, and the galaxy as a whole is finally dead.

He can’t say that though, so instead he replies:

“There was no other option for us, Master Yoda.”

It’s not the reply that the Council wants, but they take his testimony to the Senate anyways as proof that they did their best, that the Chancellor’s death was unavoidable and that a Lord of the Sith would die before surrendering.

Bail Organa defends them in the Senate, shaking his fist at the rabbling senators before him as he shows the signatures of the Delegation of 2000. 

“Had we not once feared Palpatine held far too much power and for far too long?” He asks the politicians. “Was this plot to destroy our beloved democracy not what knew in our hearts and minds to be true?”

It also helps that two of Skywalker’s men (a captain and a medic with an unfortunate haircut) tell a sombre story about what one of their brothers found out about the chips in their heads and what happened to him when he dug too deep.

But the real showpiece of the circus that became the trail of the Jedi Order was Anakin Skywalker himself.

The Jedi who struck the killing blow testifies to his knowledge of the Chancellor’s plots, to the manipulation of battles and the loss of life, and to his own pact with the Sith Lord. He is no longer the Hero with No Fear. In those final moments of testimony, Anakin Skywalker is just a young man who loved his wife too much to bear.

It is a damning case for the deceased Chancellor.

But despite the evidence and the testimony and the past doubts of the Senate itself, there is a lingering fear about the power that the Jedi hold.

The Senate looks at the Jedi, at their unfailing and unflinching morality, their raw power and convictions, and sees a threat to a democracy that is barely holding itself together.

The Jedi cannot continue, cannot go on in a galaxy that no longer has faith in their ability as peacekeepers. It is a debate that keeps the Senate in session for days.

Eventually though, a decision is made behind the closed doors of the interim chancellor Mon Mothma, between the Jedi High Council and high-ranking members of the Senate. The Jedi may remain on Coruscant in their temple and train their younglings and keep whatever peace they might find in the galaxy, but they are no longer agents of the Republic.

Whatever that means.

Quinlan finds it ironic that the first act of this new age of the Republic is to okay a decision made beyond the constraints of democracy.

The Jedi Order itself collapses under its own weight, scattering what pieces that remain to the far edges of the galaxy.

Mace Windu decides to stay on Coruscant, with a skeleton group of Jedi to protect the vaults and libraries and secrets of the Temple. They will remain as guardians of knowledge, but nothing more.

The time of the Jedi as a political force in the Republic is over.

Yoda takes some of the younglings to Jedha, to the Temple of the Whills. Others are taken to rebuild Ledeve and Vrogas Vas and Ossus, the old temples untouched by the hands of the Sith.

There are a number of younglings whose parents turn up on the Temple steps, demanding the return of their children.

Even greater is the number of knights and masters that throw their lightsabres at the feet of the Council and leave to find whatever balance they can.

Depa Billaba takes her padawan to Lothal, telling Yoda she senses something hidden within its soil.

Aayla Secura takes her clone commander to find Ach-To, the lost Jedi Temple.

Shaak-Ti retreats to the great plains of Shili.

Anakin Skywalker disappears.

It is silence after the crescendo.

Most of this Quinlan only learns by what truths he can glean from the holonews and by the grace of Obi-Wan Kenobi when they cross paths in a dingy cantina on Tatooine.

Him and Asajj are sorting through the bounty decks for their next job; there are fewer and fewer every week.

Once the Republic sent its army to the Outer Rim to clear out the gangsters and the pirates and the spice-runners that blossomed during the war, the need for for-hire justice dwindled. He knows they will need to retire sometime in the near future, knows that one day there will be a temple that needs them, and hopes that some of the younglings they train will be their own.

But back to Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Kenobi is not there for bounties or spice or Jedi business.

Kenobi is looking for his friend.

“I promised someone I would find him.” Kenobi tells them over a drink he hasn’t taken a sip of. “Ahsoka believes he was on Manadalore, but he hasn’t been seen since…”

They can fill in the blanks where Kenobi trails off.

There is a determination in his old friend’s shoulders, a resignation to seek out the truth no matter what he might find.

And Quinlan is well aware of what Kenobi might find.

Whispers were gaining traction in the Outer Rim of a shadow that stalks the slave markets and the Hutt dens and the spice runner’s cantinas.

Where the Republic’s army slowly beats back the pirates and the spicers and the gangsters, the shadow cleaves through them all in one stroke.

No mercy, only justice.

Anakin Skywalker was going to be a bitch to find.

“Well!” Quinlan clapped his hands together, rubbing them in anticipation of a good fight, the kind that was slowly leaving the galaxy. “If we found him on Tatooine once, we can do it again!”

* * *

**Bonus - Epilogue**

Asajj reaches out into the Force, feeling the calm of a galaxy at peace wash over her and centering herself in the delicate balance between–

“Master Vos?”

Balance gone, she cracks one eye open, enough to see a little blond head peak around the corner.

“Dad wants to talk you.”

“Which one?”

Asajj was supposed to be meditating with Quinlan, but he gave up pretending five minutes in and was now sprawled out on the floor beside her, snoring loudly.

The little boy shrugs. “I dunno.”

Asajj groans.

The blond Skywalker youngling was much worse at temple life than the little brunette. At least she managed to remember the messages she delivered, scampering around corners with all the determination a six-year-old could muster.

Asajj grabs Quinlan’s ankle and pulls.

He jolts awake, half-jumping to his feet. He orients himself in the meditation room before stretching, standing up straight, then reaches over to ruffle the youngling’s hair.

“Hey, kid! You have a message for us?”

Asajj doesn’t give the smiling child the chance to answer.

“We’re needed.”

She holds out her hands for him to help her up from the floor.

He pulls her up gently, but she tries to spring up in a way her body no longer cooperates with and nearly sends herself sprawling the other way.

“Easy there, precious cargo!” Quinlan catches her, of course, because that’s really been his only job the past few months.

Asajj still can’t believe she let him talk her into this.

She feels bloated, like a dead bantha in the Tatooine suns.

Her body hadn’t been her own for a long time now and now, as she approached the end, she worries that they made a huge mistake.

What if she’s not good at this?

What if she messes it up and the kid ends up dead?

Or worse, ends up as insufferable as Anakin Skywalker?

But then a sticky little hand grabs her own and she lets her anxieties fade into the Force around her.

“Don’t worry, Master Vos. I know the directions!”

Asajj lets Luke lead her and Quinlan through the Temple, the little boy grinning through two missing teeth the whole way.

His sister had relieved him of his front teeth days earlier and, while she had been impressed at Leia’s punch, Asajj had separated the two fighters. At some point after that, Luke Skywalker decided that Master Vos was his most favourite person in the galaxy.

They move at a child’s hurried pace, passing the newly installed windows that looked out onto the plains of Lothal.

The planet had become a home to the Jedi once again following the Order’s shattering. Their small faction oversaw the building of a new temple near the base of the ancient one, a modest building that was now home to less than a hundred Jedi and their families.

Luke leads them to his father’s room, defiantly telling Quinlan that ‘I can do it _myself!_ ’ when he offers to help him open the door.

Asajj had to stifle a laugh at the little boy straining on the tips of his toes to reach the button. The poor kid had inherited his mother’s height.

“Thanks for getting them, Luke.” Skywalker looks up from a holomap to smile at his son. “Your mom is waiting in the library for you.”

Asajj watches as he skips down the hallway, alternating between running and practicing the _katas_ that Quinlan had taught the younglings’ class the day before.

“I actually only need Quinlan,” Skywalker says once his son is out of earshot. “Luke does his best, but I don’t think he hears a word I say.”

“Seems like a family trait.”

Skywalker ignores her.

“Governor Azadi wants to consult with us over some issues that the Lothal security force is having with a few spice runners who’re using the southern plains to hide their product. With Kenobi visiting Yoda on Jedha, it falls to me and you to help.”

Asajj excuses herself before she falls asleep.

She takes a rambling path to her and Quinlan’s room, stopping in the library to make sure Luke found his way there and slipping through the kitchens to steal a snack.

There is a welcome familiarity to the routine; each person she passes is one she knows and every doorway, every crevice of the Temple is familiar.

It is not the winding streets of Rattatak, or the dark caves of Dathomir, or even her little bunk on the _Banshee_ , but it is more of a home than Asajj has even known.

And after everything,

The war,

The betrayal,

The hatred,

It is more than she could ever possibly want.

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment if you can.

**Author's Note:**

> You know when you re-read a book and your brain says "this is our new hyperfixation for the month? I finally got around to re-reading Dark Disciple and now I'm going to write all the fics that were rattling around in my brain the first time I read it.


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